


Methodical

by yeahitshowed



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/F, proclone cosima
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeahitshowed/pseuds/yeahitshowed
Summary: Cosima is raised by the Dyad instead of Rachel. Same experiment, different outcome.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily based on the proclone!Cosima created by ao3 user piggy09 (also sharkodactyl on tumblr).

“And what substantiate’s an experiment’s conclusions?” the teacher asks. “Cosima?”

In the first row, Cosima cocks her head. “I didn’t even raise my hand. Why did you call on me?”

“Um,” says the teacher, and looks at her Dyad-issued clipboard: _Grade 6 curriculum, Grade 10 vocabulary, keep her focused._

“It’s not fair to just assume I know,” Cosima says, smiling. “I mean, I do. But you need to look around. Scan the room.”

The teacher looks at her notes again. She starts to speak, and Cosima interrupts with a chipper, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” says the teacher, pinning her lips up and avoiding eye contact. She glances around the room, at the rows and rows of empty desks; in an unsure voice, she says, “Does — does anyone know the answer?”

Cosima raises her hand. The teacher calls on her.

“An experiment,” Cosima says, leaning her chin on her hands, “is substantiated by its reproducibility.”

——————————————————————————————-

“Aryanna started playing the flute,” Cosima tells Aldous over dinner; her feet are up on the table and her mouth is full, but Aldous won’t scold her for it. That’s one of the reasons Cosima loves him. She loves him so much. “And Beth joined track, even though she was really scared about it.”

“What about Danielle?” Aldous asks. “The last I heard, she was falling behind in school.”

“She’s doing better!” Cosima grins. “Her monitor is tutoring her. Isn’t that sweet?”

Aldous doesn’t respond — he’s looking down at his phone, and immediately Cosima’s fist closes around her fork, she’s thinking about arteries and pressure points and angles of impact, but then Aldous looks back up and says, “Yes, Cosima, that is very sweet,” and it’s, like, _totally_ fine. 

——————————————————————————————-

Her sisters grow up just like Cosima grows up, but they also don’t, you know? Like, Cosima watches them get taller and stuff, but they don’t really learn much. Alison still cares about stupid shit and Janika never understands why people follow her sometimes. Repetition without revision. Yawn.

On her eighteenth birthday, Cosima gets an entire floor of the Dyad all to herself. Her monitor sits in a corner and twiddles his or her or their thumbs (she goes through monitors pretty quick), and Cosima studies the skin cells from her own hands and thinks about her clones. 

When a monitor sticks for more than a few days, Cosima starts neglecting her labwork and starts studying the monitor. Where do they come from? What’s their favorite childhood memory? What do they like about Cosima? What’s their blood type? What do they love about Cosima? Do they love Cosima?

The thing is, most of them aren’t worth studying. Cosima wants them to be worth it — she wants it more than anything — but none of them are interesting enough. So Aldous gets her a new one, and another one after that, and another one after that. 

——————————————————————————————-

Reproducibility: the ability of an experiment to be duplicated by anyone and yield the same results. 

Cosima lives and breathes by this rule, because science lives and breathes by this rule. All her tests are done at least three times, and usually more; her supply of lab mice has to be refilled at what Aldous calls an “unsustainable rate,” but she makes sure they’re warm and well-fed before she cuts them open, so whatever.

Getting the same results over and over is good. It means she’s succeeding. But also… that’s the catch-22 of it all, right? Repeatable tests prove experiments work, and repeatable tests are fucking _boring._ The same thing, over and over, until all the excitement is gone. Cosima likes excitement.

Sometimes, looking into the cages and cages and cages and cages of identically small scared mice, she wishes one of them would try biting her thumb or breaking free or something. She thinks about this later, too, when she’s wiping her scalpel clean. 

——————————————————————————————-

In her first two hours as Cosima’s monitor, Delphine tells five lies. They are, in order: her middle name, her favorite food, her interest level in sacred geometry, her natural hair color, and her blood type. Cosima loves her instantly. 

——————————————————————————————-

Sarah appears and Cosima thinks: human error. She’s not sure whose, but someone’s. Someone is to blame.

“It will be easy to find information,” Delphine says, rubbing Cosima’s shoulders as Cosima knocks papers off her desk. “This girl has a criminal record.”

“That’s going to take time, though,” Cosima says sullenly. “I don’t want to use my time on her.”

“Then I will do it, ma cherie.”

Cosima shrugs off Delphine’s hands. “I know you will,” she says dismissively, and turns back to the game of solitaire open on her laptop. Delphine kisses her cheek and gets to work. (Which is to say: Delphine gets to work.)

——————————————————————————————-

“Kira is so cute,” Cosima says, grinning at a stricken and shivering Sarah sitting across from her. “You’re so lucky. And she’s really yours? Like…biologically?”

“Can you get to the point,” Sarah mutters. Cosima frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“Why am I here? What do you want with me?”

“I want to get to know you!” Cosima says earnestly, sitting back in her chair. “Seriously, Sarah, the Dyad could do so much for you and your family if we know what you need. So — what do you need?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah!”

“Well…” Sarah shifts uncomfortably. “We need a guarantee that we’ll be safe.”

“Done.”

Sarah looks at her incredulously. Cosima loves the way her eyes widen. “Just like that, then? I’m s’posed to believe my kid is safe now?”

“She is,” Cosima promises. “We’ll work out the details later, of course. But yes. What else?”

“Hold on,” Sarah says, rubbing her temples. “You lot have been making my life a living hell, and that’s all gonna stop because you say so?”

“I’m at the top, here,” Cosima says, and it’s not bragging. It’s just true. “I want to help you. So, you’re gonna get help.”

Sarah tries to hide her relieved and involuntary smile. “Thank you, I guess.”

“Of course.” Cosima puts her feet up on the desk. “You owe me one.”

——————————————————————————————-

When Jennifer dies, Cosima sobs for exactly four minutes, and then she grabs Delphine’s hand and runs to prep for the autopsy. Delphine is so cute in a surgical mask. 

Cosima talks for the entire process; she talks about Jennifer’s life and Jennifer’s ovaries and Jennifer’s lungs, and Delphine is listening diligently — until she isn’t.

“Hey,” Cosima says sharply. She plants her (gloved and bloodied) hands on her hips. “Pay attention, Doctor Cormier.”

Delphine looks up from Jennifer’s pale and waxy face. “I am sorry,” she says, brow furrowed. “The face is a bit distracting.”

“Because it’s my face?” 

“Yes,” Delphine agrees. “It is strange, to see the face —”

“ _My_ face,” Cosima corrects impatiently. Delphine nods. It’s not enough.

——————————————————————————————-

Sarah doesn’t get it. For everything Cosima’s promising her, all the freedoms and safety measures and shit, shouldn’t she want more in return?

Then again, Sarah’s not one to complain when getting the better end of a deal. If all she has to do to please the proclone is pretend to be her at one Dyad party, spare her the boring smalltalk for a couple hours, then fine with her. 

Well, fine with her until a tall blonde lady walks up to her, cups her face, and kisses her. Sarah jerks away. 

“What’s wrong?” the woman asks.

“Oh, uh, nothing, I —”

“You’re not her,” the woman says slowly. Across the room, wearing a weak disguise, Cosima starts crying. 

——————————————————————————————-

Cosima reaches into the cage and pulls out a mouse. It looks up at her, trapped between her fingers, and Cosima reminds herself: 

She is a scientist. She’s also the science — she knows this, she loves this — but she’s a scientist, first and foremost. She controls the tests. She manipulates the variables. Same procedure, same outcome, successful experiment. Same Leda face, same Delphine — 

How could Delphine not _know?_ How could she be so predictable, like everyone else? How could she not see that Cosima is different? 

Cosima sighs, stroking the mouse’s little head. Someday, Aldous will give her a monitor who understands. Until then, she’ll cut (warm, well-fed) things open and hope she finds answers inside. 


End file.
